User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March Original/@comment-3135907-20160131070425/@comment-3135907-20160426194223

Feffle slowed further, gazing about in sudden awe of the ancient woodland, between the massive oak and alder where thin beams of sunlight pierced through the canopy and dappled the forest floor. The young hare's ears twitched inquisitively, listening to the sounds of silence. Telltale whispers drifted around them- perhaps the wind, perhaps something more...

Awe turned to foreboding as a branch snapped like a firecracker in the shaded darkness; Feffle jerked his head around in the direction from which it seemed to have come. Nothing.

"Huh, just th' bally dashed old forest playin' tricks again, eh. Devilish naughty of it, wot?"

Lieutenant Bardlin heard the branch snap, too. The rat held up a paw. "Cap'n," he whispered in a low, confident voice as he stepped forward into the void, drawing his blade, "looks like we've found ourselves the 'ares."

Whupp! Like some terrific pendulum, a long rope of bark and sinew with a weighted, prickly-looking object at one end came hurtling through space and whacked Bardlin in the back, causing him to stumble a little.

"Urgh, wot..." He paused, regaining his balance, then slowly followed the horrified stares of Dogbane and Flewd to the long, thin wooden spikes sticking out of his own belly. Spikes draped with bits of intestine and coated in ugly, blackish arterial blood. His blood.

Bardlin screamed.

Feffle froze, ears bolt upright. That was no trick of the wind.